The stigma of living with Crone’s disease

You’ve no doubt heard of Crohn’s disease, a chronic inflammatory disorder of the bowels. My heart goes out to people with Crohn’s because it can be very debilitating and difficult to live with.

However, there’s another condition with a very similar name, and this is the one I want to talk about today. It’s not easy to discuss, but I need to face my fears and tell my story.

My friends, I suffer from Crone’s disease. I don’t have full-blown Crone’s yet, but it’s just a matter of time.

Medical literature on the subject is scant; patients generally present with very vague signs and symptoms. Because there are no tests for Crone’s, proper diagnosis can be made only when the disease is already advanced.

I vividly remember when I noticed the first symptom. I was at a bar and the music was really loud. Probably no louder than the music at other bars I had been to, but on this night the volume really bothered me. I was seized by the overwhelming urge to tell the bartender to “turn down that fucking noise.” This was accompanied by a strong desire to reflect loudly and at length on how much better the music was when I was in high school and college and how “bands today all sound the same.”

I had never experienced anything like that before. It scared me.

Several years later, another alarming symptom reared its ugly head. I was out with some friends. We had a great time carousing but after so much debauchery I needed to call it a night. I looked at my watch. It was 11pm. That can’t be right, I thought. It’s got to be around 4am. My watch must have stopped. How could this be, that after only a few hours I was tired and wanted to go home?

I didn’t know it then, but I was in the early stages of Crone’s.

Other symptoms emerged recently. Not long ago I used the phrase, “Kids today have NO IDEA.” I sometimes mutter under my breath at loud groups of young’uns in their 20s and 30s. And when people discuss celebrities, I frequently have no clue who they’re talking about. Blake Lively? Who’s he?

I babble about how U2 was really great “back in the day.” I bemoan the fact that people born in the 80s and 90s are co-opting The Breakfast Club and calling it a movie for their generation. Yeah, well, I’ve got news for you, you little punks: you can’t possibly know what it was really like back then. I was there, bitches. So why don’t you just run along and play with your Xbox or something?

Doctors don’t talk about prognosis when it comes to people with Crone’s. But I’m not stupid. I know what’s in store for me.

“Get off my lawn, you rotten kids!”

I’ll start saying “I’m too old for this shit” more often. My joints will make odd cracking noises, like an old house settling. It will take me ten minutes to get up after sitting on the floor. Certain foods will no longer agree with me but I’ll insist on eating them anyway and complaining when my stomach hurts and I can’t sleep. My glasses will crap out and I’ll be forced to read stuff by holding it either really far away or right in front of my eyes.

I won’t even get into the visible manifestations of Crone’s disease because they’re too numerous and horrifying. But I will say this: grey hair is associated with an increased risk of Crone’s. As you know, I already have a touch of hag. My future is grim. Eventually I’ll have to accept my fate.

For those of you who think you might have Crone’s, please know you’re not alone. You shouldn’t suffer in silence. Instead, you should bitch and moan to anyone who will stand still long enough to listen. It’s the only way.

I developed Early Stage 1 Crone’s at 26. Symptoms began with sarcasm, the rhetorical device many young Americans are still unfamiliar with. I struggle too, but part of me hopes I end up in your home so we can yell “you damn kids and your music!” from our porch rocking chairs.

Sarcasm—yes, that’s one of the very earliest symptoms. I came down with that as a kid but back then, people didn’t understand about Juvenile Crone’s. As for sitting together on the porch and yelling at people, that sounds just about perfect.

Oh, god, if only I had the energy to groan, “I’m too old for this shit!” Now I just communicate with grunts. I’m also getting more hag-gy every day. I found five more gray hairs this week alone. Must be the stress of trying to stay awake past 9 pm.

Love this post. Yes I confess…. I too feel the creeping fingers of Crones disease infecting not just my mind but my entire world view. Doctors are all starting to look like 12 year olds wearing stolen lab coats and I’m becoming increasingly convinced that my neighbors are all secretly drug dealers. I mean why else would they have car loads of visitors rocking up every night…. oh wait…. once upon a time….back in the dim distant past…. I seem to recall this thing called ‘socializing’.

I’ve heard about socializing. I didn’t realize people actually *did* that, I thought it was just one of those urban myths. I feel that way about doctors too–“What, did you just graduate from med school? Can I have a *real* doctor please?” It’s hard to trust these rosy-cheeked youngsters. And thank you so much for reblogging!

As hideous as this condition is on flare up days, I can personally testify that it does come with its benefits: The ability to embarrass your children with very little effort and absolutely no guilt. It kind of makes all the other symptoms worthwhile.

I too suffer from this. Just last Friday I posted on facebook “I could use a new foot. While we are at it, lets get a new back and perhaps some new knees. Who am I kidding. I need a new body. Preferably a younger one that isn’t so fond of food, so repulsed by exercise and so attracted to gravity.”

That’s not right, Delicious—no way are you old enough for any sort of graduated lenses. I blame the quality of lenses being made these days. Obviously the power in the lenses wears out–that’s the only explanation. Otherwise it would mean that our eyes were changing, and that certainly can’t be the case.

In the Wicca tradition, there’s a ceremony for this sort thing – just like other rights of passage, the Croning ceremony marks the passage into wisdom. A few years ago, a client brought me a jewelry pin – it was the face of an old woman with gray hair and round, red cheeks. It was a compliment – a tribute to wisdom and my healing abilities – I was horrified and it took everything I had in me to smile and thank her! Now I can laugh about that and join your ranks, dear Weebs (although I think I have a few years on you!) But still, the eternal Boomer in me kicks and screams and says “Never!” I’ll live forever – Hahahahahahahahahaha! (Witchy cackle!) Oh well, it is getting close to Halloween…

The Wiccans are wise. We should adapt a lot more of their philosophies. But I probably would have been horrified by getting a Crone pin too! Still, your client was right about your wisdom and healing abilities, Cathy. And by the way, you are one of my role models. So thank you for being such an inspiration!

Hilarious! I started reading with the idea – “Weebs needs to proofread her titles…” Until I saw you’d spelled it that way in purpose! Lol. Brilliant. I realized I was coming down with Crone’s when the words “it’s too sweet” entered my vocab. Too sweet?? I used to eat flavored sugar right out of the package! Too sweet…geez.

I have that problem too, legion! When I was a kid I used to eat Jell-O powder right out of the box, and now I find that a lot of things are too sweet for me. Next I’ll be finding that things will be too spicy for me. That will be sad.

Weebs, I’m right there with you. How many celebs under the age of 25 are there today? I’m like you, I have no idea who they are. And now if we go somewhere and the music is too loud, it really pisses me off. Especially if it’s techno. And I wonder, really I, at one time in my life, liked this — staying out late and having to scream at people to be heard? Don’t even get me started on the gray — it’s not so bad except this one spot at the front. When do I stop though? Do you shave your head and start over?

I’ve lost count of how many interchangeable, talent-free and personality-free celebrities there are under the age of 25, Brigitte. There are so many, and they’re largely irrelevant as far as I’m concerned. The As for too-loud music, I don’t understand why it has to be SO LOUD. Even at restaurants they do that now—I feel like yelling at them and saying “It’s not a nightclub, people!” Meh. And I refuse to let the greys out yet. I will when I’m older, but not yet. Nope. Not doing it.

I noticed the first signs when my 4 year old stood in a position which was a perfect replica of my mother, and berated her sister (2) for starting playing with another toy without having put away the first.

I would like to blame my mum, but I really don’t think she would have scolded her grandchildren for this, so it was probably me that my 4 year old was copying!

My eldest is now about to turn 18, and my symptoms are now in the advanced stages. My husband & I can’t wait for the girls to leave home so we don’t have to stay up till midnight on New Years Eve!! 🙂

Hi Barbara! I bet kids are responsible for much early-onset Crone’s disease. Except in my case–I don’t even have kids to blame for my troubles! I sympathize with your efforts to stay up until midnight on New Year’s Eve. Bless you and your advanced symptoms!

It’s not me, dear, it’s the disease talking. However, your point is well taken, and you’re a kind and brave soul. Caregivers always have the toughest job, and Crone’s spouses probably have the toughest job of all.

Physical manifestations may eventually have to be accepted, but never, never am I going to allow myself to give in to the emotional battering crone … now find me a nice chair so I can have a little sleep 🙂

It seems this crone always manages a good nap, Madame W, which is a good thing, since I only manage four or five hours sleep a night these days. It’s a terrible disease, depriving one of a full night’s sleep … 🙂

I’m jealous – somebody’s enticing ‘my’ monkeys with riper mangoes than mine – I’ve barely seen them the last few days!

I’m in denial about my Crone’s disease. I refuse to wear reading glasses (except to do my nails ‘cos if I don’t, I might end up with shorter fingers); rarely whine about the kids of today except to say that recalling the start of MySpace is not what I call ‘nostalgia for the old days’; don’t go to the doctor on those occasions when my knees won’t let me go up the stairs without user-error; and I still try to listen to music through the headphones. ‘Try’ being the operative word…

There are two stages of CRONE’s. I discovered this reading a three year old issue of AARP while waiting to see my doctor(s)

Stage One CRONE’s or Constant Rants Opined, No Exceptions: Pronounced development in ages 7 – 19. Then usually lays dormant until one is afflicted with a receding hairline and/or noticeable gray hair. I, for one, am in the throes of full bore Stage One. Annoying at times, but often very satisfying.

Stage Two CRONE’s or Certain Reminders of Near Eternity. An annoying, often painful development. Symptoms are advanced when one can no longer watch SNL, let alone remember what night it airs.

Hahaha! The bit about calling it a night after so much carousing and debauchery only to find out it’s 11:00pm, made me LOL!!!! Great post, Weebs. From one who had early onset, all I can say is, Crones is no walk in the park. When your symptoms shift from acute to chronic, you can pretty much call it a day. Haha!
This should be f-pressed. Just sayin’.

Thank you for letting us know we are not alone. I knew I was headed towards Crone’s disease when every action I took, whether it was to stand up or sit down or pick something up, was accompanied by a sigh or a groan or a grunt. So if you don’t do that yet, be happy–you still have a ways to go before the final stages of the disease.

But check out these privileges of the elderly:
I’m looking forward to entering that period where you can say anything you want without people getting upset, when people say “Aw, she’s just old.”

There are also these really old women who talk about how beautiful they used to be and with no proof you just go on ahead and believe them. There was this wrinkly old scholar who said in this article that she used to be very beautiful and that her beauty intimidated people. When I’m really really old, I’m going to say “My beauty would have blown you youngins out of the water. I had men from far and wide longing for me.” I realized then that any old bag could claim they used to be a beauty even if they looked like shit on a shingle when they were young. 😉

That IS something to look forward to! I can rant and rave in my old age and tell everyone what a hottie I was. And it’s not like they can refute me, because I’ll hit them with my cane or my purse. Sandee, when you and I are super old we should park ourselves at some local joint where everyone can refer to us as “those two crazy old bats.”

When I was attending Catholic grade school “back in the day” I recall that this disease disproportionately afflicted nuns as well as my 2nd Grade teacher, Mrs. Moran, whose favorite way to address her students was declaring, “You ornery brat!”

Considering that Mrs. Moran was pushing 70 when I was 7, and it’s unlikely that she’s still kicking at 116, even though the mean die old, I suppose it’s possible that she’s still going strong. If not, you could audition for her kid-loathing vacancy Weebs.

Dear Madame, I’ve got 2 bits of good news for you:
1. According to Mama Donna (http://donnahenes.net/pages/index.shtml) you get to go through the Queen stage first…
2. When you get full-blown Crone’s, you get to tell everyone to fuck off with impunity! 😉 xoxoM

I, too, suffer at times from the onset of Crone’s Disease. And the hubs has the male equivalent. What do we call that? The fact that I can still hear well is amazing when I think of how much we blared our stereos and headphones “back in the day.” Of course, it means I suffer more when hearing today’s music played at those levels.

Ah, U2 back in the day. I stopped listening for the longest while once Achtung Baby came out. I’m only now just listening to some of their newer releases.

I think the male equivalent is Old Timer’s Disease, as some of the gentlemen here have commented on being afflicted with it. Yeah, U2 back in the day was something else. I liked Achtung Baby and I didn’t even mind Zooropa, but they lost me after that. It’s not that we’re not hip anymore, it’s just that there’s nothing to be hip to!

Sounds like one of those things which is rather a state of mind than an actual age thing. I’ve definitely been a Grumpy Old Woman since the age of 21 (when I think they refurbished the dingy old nightclub in my hometown and put SHEET METAL on the walls, which definitely didn’t help with the noise level).

Hello faithhopechocolate! You sound like me, I’ve been a Grumpy Old Woman since a fairly young age myself. Also, what idiots put sheet metal on the walls of a nightclub?? I hope someone beat them senseless.

Dear Mme Weebles,
I think I’ve been a hardened cynic since the age of 10, and the GOW (Grumpy Old Woman) syndrome probably kicked in at 18… The worst thing is that for as long as I can remember, I have often gone into a room to get something I left there and as soon as I’ve got to said room, clean forgotten what it was I went for. This would not be a problem if I were still living in my one-bedroomed flat, but I’m now living in a Religious community and my cell (bedroom) is on the 2nd floor (3rd floor in American) so if I’ve forgotten something it’s one heck of a lot of stairs!
I have no idea if the nightclub still has sheet metal on the walls because I’ve not been to it for getting on for a decade now. (And of course, it being a nightclub in a small town, it’s still known by the name it had 25 years ago.) Oh, and due to the aforementioned Religious community, I’m not going to go into it again anyway as they’d probably think my habit was fancy dress (and I don’t want some idiot to spill lager on it either).
Faith Xx

No, and you probably don’t want your habit to be reeking of stale beer, either. As for being on a higher floor, my apartment is also on the 3rd floor in a walk-up building, so I have the same problem! You’d think it would be a deterrent to forgetting stuff, but nope.

There are lifts around here, but it’s actually faster to walk. Plus I’d still have to deal with some stairs or climb through a loft (the Priory is basically built of extensions) to get to my cell. Still, it gives me plenty of time to remember, forget, remember again, forget for the third time and possibly get lost on the way to my cell to get whatever it was I forgot in the first place! I really don’t know how some of the older Sisters do it… Maybe they’ve just accepted their Crone’s? Certainly the majority of them have hair that comes in the grey/pepper/white category.

The symptoms can be moderated by a careful contemplation of all the stuff that used to be THE END OF THE FRIGGIN’ WORLD!!!!, like band break-ups, attempts at speaking to the opposite sex, and unexpected confluences of credit card and utility bills, but which have become through prolonged exposure matters of no comment whatever. Let an air of experiential smugness cushion your Crone’s; it’s worked wonders on my incipient Cranky Old Mansterness.

Oh Madame, I’m really sorry to hear that. It must be terrible having to bitch out all those people and nag at shop attendants (who really are slower than they used to be).

I have a similar issue with oldtimers disease. Unlike Alzheimers, it’s a creeping disease the slowly makes you not bother to remember anything because you did it all before and why the hell would you want to do it again? The symptoms are pretty similar but oldtimers aren’t locked up as much. Mind you, don’t give either of them a ride if they’re out walking…

I’m telling you Nigel, it’s a real problem. People and things today are ALL not as good as they used to be. It’s only right that I let them know. And yeah, I don’t think either crones or old timers should be given rides—they’d just complain about the driving.

At nearly 75 I’m in the advanced stages of Crone’s Disease, and know that that Boring old Bat is probably one of the kinder epithets that the young use on me – Boring Old Fart (BOF for short) has also been heard when they thought I wasn’t listening… My grey hairs are now white, and children aka hairdressers tell me I’m a colour virgin since I’ve never dyed. But the up side is, as I told someone the other day when I had another cream cake “You’re only old once so you might as well enjoy it.” At least you don’t get a hangover with a cream cake!

Excellent article – when I first started reading it I thought “Oh my, the Crone disease must be new ’cause I’ve never heard of it on the medical scene” but when I continued reading I started laughing, my mind finally grasping the “Old Crone concept”. My grandma suffers from it, on a daily basis. Back in her days, the neighbors helped each other not like today when they don’t even visit. And the teen are using so many things that would have been considered the devil’s work back in her time (she’s 80)…. so I kinda shrug it off and hope I won’t end up like this..
Advice: put on the music channel and find at least one song you like. You won’t be cronified then! 🙂 Bruno Mars did it for me. I keep quiet about the ones I don’t know and just nod approvingly.

Mike, I’m going to consult with you next time I think of doing something stupid like sitting on the floor. You have much wisdom. Also, I think that’s an all-purpose sentence–as in, “Who do I have to kill to get a fucking bowl of ice cream?” and so on.

It seems that it’s a drastically underdiagnosed problem, OGP—I mean, look at all the people commenting on this post who are suffering along with us. I’d offer to invite everyone over for a party, but seeing as how old and decrepit we all are, it wouldn’t really be much of a gathering.

Thanks for this. I knew my father had contracted the male version, Curmudgeonitis, about ten years ago when everyone younger than him became terminally stupid and everything was better when he was young. I’ve been seeing the beginning signs in myself for a few years. I found out just how far the disease had progressed last Sunday when I found that I could not remain standing for an entire concert at the House of Blues.
*sigh*

Oh boy. Not being able to stand for an entire concert is a definite symptom. I also discovered that another symptom is being at a baseball game and desperately hoping it doesn’t go into extra innings because I’m tired and want to go home already. That, and suddenly not trusting anyone under 40.

I will never again be able to sneak up a flight of stairs because it sounds like somebody’s crushing bubble wrap under my kneecaps. I carry earplugs at all times, and I’ve actually used them in bars, movie theatres and concerts. My friends and I used sit around and swill beer and get wasted. Now we sit around and talk about how we used to sit around and swill beer and get wasted, and everybody goes home to bed at 9 PM.

A couple of weeks ago, I had to wear both earmuffs and earplugs to shoot comfortably in the indoor firing range. And I have to wear wrist braces so I don’t tear ligaments (again) when I punch the hell out of my 230-pound bag.

I may have Crone’s, but I’ll still kick ass… Just give me a few minutes to get ready… Wait… Get off my lawn, you damn kids!

Gracias, amiga! Yeah, the knee cracking. I get that too. My ankles have cracked for a while too. When I first start walking after I get up in the morning, it sounds like I’m cracking my knuckles. This aging stuff is BULLSHIT. But damn, girl, you absolutely will still kick ass—you can shoot AND punch a 230-pound bag? Remind me not to piss you off.

One day Lady Gaga came on the radio and I (sigh) was actually listening, so my daughter asked “So she’d dead, right?” I happen to love 80s music, so they assume all the singers I like are either old or dead. That’s so nice. Of course Lady Gaga is just a bad copy of Madonna. Silly whippersnappers. We have students at the library looking up birthdates on microfilm (which they have never heard of) and get this – these college students were born in freaking 1994. WTF???

Sweet Jesus. That’s not right. I used to rant to the 20-somethings I worked with about how if it weren’t for Madonna, Lady Gaga wouldn’t exist. Also, they don’t know microfilm??? Come on, people. Not EVERYTHING has been digitized. I might be the only person alive who actually likes microfilm.

Oh, I know. Gaga thinks she’s so innovative. I’m like, Madonna waspissing off the Catholic Church when you were in diapers, woman, you’re nothing new. (BTW have you seen Weird Al’s parody video? LOL).

Yeah, they act like microfilm is this ancient tool, like pencils. One even said something about it being “Old School.” Ugh. I admit I never used it much before I started working there, but it actually works quite well. But I think the university is the only place I see it now.

And don’t get me started on the digitization! They can’t believe it’s not all on computer. I’m like, if our ENTIRE STAFF worked only on digitization every single day, it still would take decades to get even a small portion of the books digitized, and by that point, people would be writing in the air with their fingers. Twits. Bad thing is you get this as much with adults as with kids.

I have a post ranting about this somewhere, under Crazy Librarians I think. Oy.

Jumpin’ Jehoshaphat. I can’t read all these darned comments. How can they spend so much time in front of their typewriters? Now be a dear and fetch me a cat to throw at the kids with their walkmans and disco music. Consarnit.

Hey, I’m in my mid-20s, and I think I may be getting premature Crone’s Disease. I often reflect that kids these days have no idea. Life before the Internet and cell phones? They don’t know. Classic animation? No, it’s all got to be fancy and hi-tech these days.

I actually misread it at first and though you had the other one… anyhoo, I think I had the early signs a few years ago when I was in a newsagent, in a queue and thinking “get out of my way you spotty oink”. The point I realised things had changed…

I just turned 30 last year, and I felt my first flair up this year. Some teenage girls were “ohmigod’ing” every ten seconds, and I wanted to strangle them with their tube tops. It took me by surprise- had I really become my dad? Now I just accept it. It’s a condition I’m managing well…for now.

It’s shocking, isn’t it? It just sneaks in there. One minute you’re blasting the music and partying with everyone, and the next minute you’re rolling your eyes at everyone and telling them to shut the fuck up. It’s all downhill from here, by the way.

Weebles, you are so funny. I, too, have Crones…..my friend at work (who is 28) said, “Hey, lets go out and a few drinks tonight after work!” I didn’t hesitate with a reply of, “Are you kidding? It’s in the middle of the week?” …….

I have it for sure. Let the Clairol hair color go last year (and when did they drop the Miss off of Miss Clairol??) and low and behold I am now proudly very salt and some pepper. It takes me 5 minutes to get down onto the ground and 30 minutes to get up (most of them dreading the pain that I’m going to feel in my knees). And aches and creaky joints? Yup. We’re there. I look at kids in their 20’s and they are still kids, with no life experience. The most challenging part of it all, is that I didn’t have kids until I was practically in menopause, so I have to deal with an almost 10 yr. old, who tests my patience and sanity on a daily basis (stopped at one kid).

Ahoy, Mariner, and welcome! God bless, having a 10-year-old, that’s challenging at any time but I’m sure it’s extra challenging when you’ve got Crone’s disease… Kids in their 20s, well, yeah, they have the energy, but not the experience or the wisdom. And I didn’t even know they removed the Miss from Miss Clairol. They could have at least replaced it with “Ms” or something. Hmmph.

Everything is an acronym…whole words are rapidly becoming a thing of the past…in an effort to make communication more effective, we’ve effectively begun dumbing it down. That’s how I know I am getting older…regression to 3 and 4 letter words that don’t involve profanity which is way more fun. Ah hell, I’m not making a lick or a wit of sense this a.m. —–more coffee…

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[…] post was inspired by my dear friend, Madame Weebles. Here she talks about her own version of a Crone. As always her amazing writing and wonderful sense of humor creates a great space for commentary […]